


Memories

by AmyNChan



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, Family, Gen, mentions of prostitution as a job, rekindling a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: She had known him and loved him once.  Now she hopes that she will be able to do so again.--world created by Wolfy--





	Memories

If there was one thing she could honestly say about Sam, it was that he was a stubborn, bull-headed man with the thickest skull she could have possibly encountered in her entire life.  For all his tenacity and cunning, he was also forever strong in the art of ignoring what he did not want to see and avoid anything that he thought might cause him undue pain.  A quick study, he tended never to repeat the mistakes of his past.

“Daddy, up up!”

“All right!  Whoosh!”

“Weee!”

It pained her to know that she was one of those mistakes.

Gloria watched Sam and Sophie continue their little game in the main area.  Peals of laughter wove their way around ticking cogs and puffs of steam as she could do nothing but watch the father-daughter duo connect after so much lost time.  So much lost time…

A sharp whistling brought her attention to the kitchenette.  The iron stove held atop it a bronze kettle—the best she could afford on the market—and refused to cease its sound until she took it off.  Hurriedly, she removed the item and let the water within cool just a few notches in order to be usable.  As steam lifted from the kettle, her mind wandered to happier days.

He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two when they first met.  She’d known right away that he was a troublemaker, if his intrusive pranks were any indication. 

A small alleyway.  She had been in the middle of dealing with her first big client.  Lots of money, lots of status.  He had taken a risk in coming to the marketplace that day.  He had been desperate and she had been looking for work.

They had just met up.  Verified identities.  Found a reclusive spot.  Laid out the details.  Payment.  Services.  The whole works.  She had been twenty-two, but not new at the game.  It would have taken her a few minutes or so to deal with it right then and there.

Explosions.  Panic.  The sound of running feet.  The violation of their private nook in the world.  Her client abandoned her.  Shouting.  An empty marketplace.  She had come out to inspect the harm and found that nothing was seriously damaged.  Little traces of black powder on some random carts.  Either a prank or a distraction had taken away her first big deal.  Judging by the laughter in another alleyway, she assumed it to be the former.

With this in mind, a twenty-two year old Gloria, enraged by the loss of her business that would eventually set her back a few years, stormed over to the source of the noise to let the prankster know _exactly_ what she thought of his mischief. 

Who could have guessed such a loud and abrupt meeting would have turned into this, seven years later?

Gloria blinked herself out of her memories and focused on the kettle before her.  The water had cooled and now the next step needed doing.  She busied her hands with a search and her mind with a list.  First, she needed to find the tea leaves she had gotten from that same marketplace not but a week ago, and then she needed to find the strainer and spoon.  She took a moment to glance towards where Sophie and Sam remained in play.

“And now I’m the princess!”

“Oh?  And what does princess Sophie need?”

“Ummm…  you can be the sweetie!”

“…the sweetie?”

Gloria chuckled to herself as she went back to her self-appointed list.  Lately, Sophie had taken to appointing herself numerous amounts of jobs—her favorites were ‘the princess’ and ‘the lady’—and telling Sam to be any number of roles by assigning him the title of ‘sweetie’.  Gloria had no idea where the term came from, but she did enjoy the effects of it.  Sam’s continuous efforts to figure out what ‘sweetie’ meant for the day kept the two talking back and forth, communicating and getting to know one another even better.  As they played, it left her time to think.  To plan.  To gather her wits and her courage.

The cups clinked together as she pulled out a mug and set it on the counter.  She twisted around to pull the strainer from its spot next to the pump.  Everyone around her insisted on calling it a ‘sink’, but pump sounded far more accurate.  It used steam to bring in cold water from the well in the same way a pump might. Same principle, but a different energy source that seemed to make no sense to her.  But if she could turn a handle and get water, she wouldn’t complain about it.  She didn’t complain about many changes, honestly, as long as they got the job done.

And when they didn’t, it was then that she often lost something.

At twenty-six, Gloria had known the importance of business.  She had been at her trade for eight years at that point, never missing a deal, always able to come out on top financially.  Sometimes she bottomed, but hey, whatever the customer wanted.  And this customer did.  And he was willing to pay for it.  Better yet, he could afford to pay for it.  He was a nobleman.

Sam hadn’t been happy about it.  He had been trying to persuade her to get out of the game, to move on and start a life with him.  Being her closest companion for four years and boyfriend for half that time, it had been a tempting option.  To leave behind the world of sex and money and roam with him.  Perhaps leave the human colonies.  Perhaps see the elves.  Perhaps visit the dwarves. Perhaps even the sea.  His offer had been so, so, _so_ tempting.

Yet however tempting a future with Sam had been at the time, she had not been able to see it work for the long-term.  How would two wandering humans earn any money?  How would they live?  Where would they live?  What would they eat?  How would they provide for themselves on a day-to-day basis?  Questions like these had plagued her and she had eventually decided to forgo the joy of her relationship for the comfort of a steady income.

The two had agreed to end their romantic relationship on cordial terms.  Two years of constant companionship and love she actually enjoyed giving and receiving had come to its end, but she was resolute in her decision.  It had to be the right thing to do.  He was devastated.  She hurt.  She could see he was hurting, too.  But at the time, she had figured it was the best thing to do.  It was professional. It was business.  It was _safe_.

And then she had morning sickness.  And her figure kept expanding, no matter how she tried to lose the weight.  And the food cravings.  And the swelling.

And the physician telling her that she was already a couple months along.  She would never forget that.  Prostitutes made nothing if they were pregnant.  They would be out of the game for a great amount of the pregnancy as well as some time afterward to heal and become ‘fit for work’ again.  And by that point, they usually lost their clients anyways.

Her client was the first to know, as she believed the child was his.  The reaction had been immediate.  He had given her an ultimatum:  somehow destroy the child and keep the job or keep the child and never be employed by him again.  She had flipped the situation on him by stating that if she kept the child, anyone would be able to see it was his.  She had the power to take the child and talk, allowing word to get back to his wife and allow an entire public scandal to take place should she be in any way jilted on her financial standing.

Professional.  Just business.  Safety.

And so a deal was struck.  Should she carry to term and birth the child, he would pay her in regular installments for the foreseeable future to raise the child and keep its heritage hidden from the world.  Should the child be terminated, she would remain under his employment as she seemed to be the only one who knew how to make him tick.

Sam had been in town, packing, she supposed, when he had discovered the situation.  A child was not an easy thing to hide in the clothes she had been accustomed to wearing in that day.  And she supposed that was the final nail in the coffin for them in his eyes.  She had been willing to carry another man’s child because of her job.

He had done more than enough as her ex-boyfriend.  He had helped her through some of the worst patches, had helped her find a reliable midwife, and had held her hand when the day of labor came.  He had been there through everything, but when she opened her eyes to the sound of a child’s cry, she did so alone.  The midwife had been in the corner, wiping the blood off of the child and checking vitals, but Sam had vanished.

It had taken her a few days to realize he was well and truly gone.  Another month before she had checked in with the guards at the wall and heard news of his departure, but not his return.  Sam was gone.

The kettle burned her back into the present and she took a moment to nurse her fingers back to health.  The heat had certainly stung and she would have to be careful where she grabbed the container, but nothing ventured nothing gained.  Gloria grabbed the kettle once more—carefully, this time—and gently poured enough hot water in the mug to cover the bottom of the glass.  She then packed the strainer with the necessary herbal mix and proceeded to pour water atop the leaves and berries.

The tea was a relaxing brew she had stumbled across at the age of twenty-seven, shortly after discovering the true heritage of her child.  During the first year, a mother learns to care for her child by way of feeding the child, dressing the child, changing the child, comforting the child, and caring for the child when they got sick.  Gloria had spent so much time focusing on fulfilling the child’s needs and keeping herself sane that it had taken her a while to notice the subtle differences.

Sophie had her mother’s fair complexion and blond hair at first sight, but the hue was darker than what she expected.  The hair was to be expected as the nobleman was a dark-haired man with a reddish tinge, but the skin was a mystery.  Her wealthy client had been as white as could be, but Sophie had been graced with an olive toned complexion just a few shades darker than her mother’s skin.  When the little girl had opened her eyes, it was Gloria’s green that stared back at her with wide blown pupils.  Or so she thought.  The truth was that Sophie’s pupils were a normal size, simply ringed with a deep brown that couldn’t have come from any blue-eyed nobleman with a hefty wallet.  After that, little details began to show up.  Ears, widow’s peak, even the nose was reminiscent of him.

This continued until there was no doubt in Gloria’s mind that Sophie was Sam’s child.

The anger had set in within an hour of her revelation.  Indignation, hurt, the reliving of good times soiled with the memory of being abandoned.  The more she had thought on it, the more the anger had filled her.  The more the hurt had filled her.

The first month after that had been spent in such self-righteous anger.  Blaming him for leaving had been so much easier than doing anything else about it.  It had been easier to allow the nobleman to continue believing her mistake and keep the cash flowing into her pocket.  It had been easier to tell herself he had left at the worst possible moment.  It had been easier to say that if she could have had her suspicions by skin color, he could have as well.

But it wasn’t true.  Any of it.  The nobleman kept his pay going, there was no way she was going to correct _him_ if she stood to lose so much out of it.  But Sam had left when it was safe for the both of them, quite conceivably at the best possible time for him to leave, if ever.  After she had survived childbirth, but before she could have woken up to break his heart anew.  He had been there and probably would have cared for Sophie or placed her in an orphanage if Gloria herself had passed.  And he had left before Sophie’s first bath.  Even if the skin tone was apparent, the difference wouldn’t have been that noticeable through the blood.

Sam was innocent in all of it and it had taken her a month to allow herself to see that.  To allow herself to come to the decision that, as Sophie’s biological father, he had a right to decide if he wanted to be in her life at all.  To come to grips with the fact that if he decided that he did, she could tolerate his presence in the face of her hurt.

So, when Sophie was two years old, Gloria had begun the search for her daughter’s father, starting by tracking down anything elven she could find.  News, trinkets, anything that she could get her hands on.  It had taken her no more than a few hours to remember the name of his teacher in the elven community, far longer to find someone willing to help her initiate contact.  Letters only went so far as people were willing to carry them, after all.

It was during that time that she’d found the tea.  A surprising beverage found amongst items generally hated that brought her peace and serenity.  Just like he used to.

“I…I gotta find my horsies!”

“You gotta find the horsies?”

“Yeaah…”

“Okay, where are they?”

“No!  You stay with mommy!  I’ll be right back!”

Gloria turned to see her three-year-old patter out of the living room, leaving Sam behind with a bemused expression on his face.  She didn’t expect him to join her and he didn’t.  It would be up to her to initiate contact.  She knew she had burned him too badly in order for him to try anything beyond toleration at this point.

She hoped to fix that.

The woman, now twenty-nine, turned to the cup of tea and squeezed the remaining liquid out of the now used leaves.  The elven brew came off the black market and she honestly wasn’t sure if it was anywhere close to what he’d had on his travels, but she had to try.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Gloria entered the room.  The laughter that had been there moments ago had stilled, and Sam was left looking at the small toys that both he and Gloria had gotten or even built for their daughter.  Gloria’s were worn and old, played with to the point of falling apart.  Sam’s were new and exciting for the little girl, nothing more than a month old.  Sophie herself seemed not to make a distinction between the toys; they were all items of fun that she could incorporate into her own little world and she was happy.

“She loves having you here,” said Gloria.  “It’s like every day’s a new adventure.”

“It is a new adventure with her,” said Sam.  He was looking at the doll he had bought for her last week.  Sophie rarely parted with it as it was her current favorite.  She must have left it for Sam to protect from their villain of the day.

When Sam said nothing more on the subject she knew she had to speak up herself.  She never had trouble doing so, but this was Sam and she did not want to mess any of this up.  Such thoughts made the simple task of small talk several times harder.

“I made you some tea,” offered Gloria, holding out the mug before her.  When he hesitated, she tried to get herself to smile, trying to hide the nervousness that had seeped into her very bones.  “I promise I didn’t poison it.”

Jokes. He still liked jokes, right?

It was another moment before Sam finally nodded and took the tea from her hands.  A month ago he wouldn’t have even done that.  He would have ignored it and her all the same.  He had come into town hopeful and willing to take her back despite what had happened in the past.  Oh, prophets, had she wanted to take him back right then and there.  He had brought her flowers and everything.  All she had wanted was to take them and apologize for taking so long and ask if they could still work after all that time, but she couldn’t.  She had had to tell him the truth about Sophie first.

He had taken the news about as well as expected at first.  His face had remained frozen for the better part of an hour and she had been tempted to find him something to drink.  It was then that his face had begun to shift, to show numerous expressions in a matter of seconds.  The first few were indistinguishable.  Confusion.  Pain.  Anger.  Hesitance.

The next two hours had felt like an interrogation.  How could she be sure?  Did she do a Tucker test?  Was Sophie really his child?

She knew in the way a mother knows her child, no, and yes.  Those were the answers she had given him.  And it was the start of what felt like the end.

He had immediately dropped the flowers and Gloria had found herself bracing for his departure.  But instead of leaving, he had wanted to meet Sophie.  Two days later, the two had met.  She could tell on his face that Sam wasn’t planning on leaving that little girl’s side and they had spent the entire day together.  Sam kept attempting to engage Sophie and took her around to play, but Gloria herself remained around as a chaperone.  She and Sam did not communicate at all during that time.  It was as though the man were attempting to catch up on three years of missing time as quickly as he could.

This sort of outing became regular for a week.  They remained out of sight from the noble eye and public enough to be fun for Sophie.  By the end of those seven days, Sam had become one of Sophie’s favorite people in the whole wide world, even going as far as to call him ‘daddy’ by the end of day six.  Neither adult dared to tell her otherwise.

Gloria herself had felt hurt for that entire time.  When she finally found him after a year of searching, she did not expect such a warm reception and had been pleasantly surprised.  But after the announcement of Sophie, a switch had been turned in his head.  Old hurt had been dug up again, fresher, more angry, and had bitten her with a vengeance.  He had been so, so angry at her, but had chosen to simply forego the anger in an attempt to connect with his daughter.

So for that first week, he had ignored her and brushed her aside and she returned the favor for as long as she could.  She tolerated his nearness, the memories he stirred up, the fact that she ached to be able to speak with him again and relearn the man she had once loved so dearly.  She tolerated it for as long as she could until she had snapped.

Sam had just put Sophie down for bed and had attempted to leave when she’d caught his arm.  She couldn’t remember exactly what she had said, but she remembered shouting a lot.  She remembered him shouting back.  Three years of nothing, three years where he could have been a true and proper father to his only child, gone because she had taken a stupid job and broken his heart.  She had fired back that the job had seemed practical at the time and was exactly how his daughter’s entire life had been funded.  He could have been told.  She wanted to know how.  He was an adventurer, a wandering man.  It had taken her a while to figure it out on her own, but then it had taken even longer to pin down a man who, evidently, did not want to be found after the passing of his teacher.

That last point had struck him and struck him hard.  She could tell the instant she had made it.  But what curbed her anger were his next two words.

“I’m sorry.”

And like that, her anger had been quelled for the most part.  In her shock and silence, Sam had gathered his belongings and left for the night, leaving Gloria struggling for words behind him.

“Where did you get this?” asked Sam, pulling her out of her thoughts.  Gloria, torn between grateful he had initiated conversation and cursing herself for not having done it already, searched her brain for a different memory.

“There’s a black market not too far from here.  I get a stock every month,” answered the woman.  “Is it anything like what they have?”

“The elves?” asked Sam.  “Hard to say.  It’s been a while since I’ve had any since most human inns wouldn’t be caught dead with the stuff.  Pretty close from what I remember, though.”

“That’s a shame.  This elven tea is really enchanting,” said Gloria, forcing herself not to look at him for his reaction.  She was rewarded with a slight snort.

“Don’t let any elves hear you say that.  They might lock you up for desecration of the magical arts.”

“And I’m sure you didn’t say a single magical pun while you were there,” goaded Gloria. 

“Nope,” returned Sam before taking a sip of his tea.  Gloria didn’t buy it for a minute.  “Try several thousand.”

“You just love trouble, don’t you?” she asked with a smile on her face, slightly more serene and longing than could be considered platonic.

Rather than respond, Sam shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of tea, looking over to the hallway.  “It’s taking Sophie a long time to get those horses. I should check on her.”

“Horsies!” called the three-year-old as she barreled into the living room and crashed into her father.  Gloria knew that he could have easily avoided the attack and remained upright, but he only took the time to set the tea aside and allow his little girl to knock him down.  Sophie’s determined face popped up again as she frowned at Sam.  “They’re horsies!”

“That’s right,” laughed the man.  He took a finger and touched Sophie on the nose quickly, causing her to giggle and forget her previous indignation.  “Did you find your horsies?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the girl as she turned back to their little world of pretend.  “Now you’re the sweetie!”

Gloria smiled as she remained in the room, watching the two jump back into a game that had been interrupted for only a few moments.  She knew that she had been one of Sam’s past mistakes.  That loving her and allowing her to break his heart and his trust so thoroughly had quite possibly ruined him ever seeing her in a romantic light again.

But she couldn’t help but hope.  Hope that perhaps he would want her back eventually.  Hope that perhaps, if she continued to try and show him just what he meant to her, things would work out eventually between the two of them.  For that, she would keep working on it.  Keep showing him in little ways she knew how.  Keep showing him that he had her heart if he ever wanted it, and keep him in the both of their lives for as long as possible.

She glanced at the tea.  It was already half-drunk.  She smiled, knowing that alone was progress.  She would just have to keep working on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so for the ‘sweetie’ thing, I’ve actually got a three year old cousin and this is something she does and it’s very amusing because she’s got specific names for the specific people in her life and she calls me the ‘sweetie’ whenever we play together and it’s just so cute and I couldn’t not add it in when I’m writing a three year old playing with someone she considers important. X’D
> 
> As for the characters and world, this is actually a small part of a huge world that was thought up by my friend, Wolfy. I kid you not, he’s got a knack for world-building and finding out how all the little or large pieces fit together to make a coherent world that has it’s own issues and madness just like our own (but not since they’re different issues, you get the idea). So I tried to subtly hit on the fact that Gloria, Sam, and Sophie live in a world that’s different than our own, so hope you all enjoyed that bit. X’D There’s far more than I’ve been able to touch on here, but it’s not like you can go into China’s culture when writing a story about Iceland, right?
> 
> Let’s see… anything else? Not really… Hope y’all enjoyed it! XD


End file.
